


Maybe it wasn’t just platonic admiration

by AllegedlyAlan



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Romance, Bullying, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hacking, Hacktivism, Homophobia, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26950774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegedlyAlan/pseuds/AllegedlyAlan
Summary: AnCap's life is in shambles.A certain blond devil at school keeps taking his anger  out on him, and as if that weren't enough, his best friend is making him feel weird.
Relationships: Ancap/Ancom, Libunity
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Maybe it wasn’t just platonic admiration

**Author's Note:**

> READING CHALLENGE:  
> Use the human names in a fresh new way by ingoring the Centricide tags and just read this as a "Bernie Sanders x Warren Buffett" fanfic. Go on, I dare you.
> 
> 1) There's human names, as usual:  
> Bernie Chomsky - AnCom  
> Warren - AnCap  
> Konrad Miller - AuthRight  
> Ilya Khrushchev - AuthLeft
> 
> 2) AnCom is adressed as a boy in this - mainly beecause this is told from AnCap's perspective, and also because it is set in a fairly conservative high school.

„Hey, Warren!“

The boy froze in his tracks. For Elon’s sake, not today! Today was just not the right day to get into a fight with Konrad Miller. He had enough problems already. He was late to school, he forgot half of his stuff home and now this.

Why couldn’t Konrad simply leave him alone? He had never done even the slightest thing to anger him, ever. Ok, maybe playing devil’s advocate in history class that one time, but that was years ago!

The entrance door was now just twenty meters away. If he could make it in time-

Slap!

A perfectly-aimed snowball hit him right in the back of his head. He stopped for a second, to wipe the snow from his face, but quickly resumed walking. He’ll just get inside, there must be some teachers there or something, and Konrad doesn’t have the balls to hit him in front their face, he just needs to…

His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of someone running to him from behind. He only managed to turn a little before the person jumped onto his back, sending him yelping right into the pile of snow that was shoveled near the school entrance.

And damn, Warren didn’t like being that person, but his head was litterally centimeters from the pavement, Jesus! He could’ve split his forehead open or something! Though that could at least get Konrad into some trouble…

But nope.

Miller never gets into any trouble, he is too smart to get caught, Warren bitterly remembers as his face is shoved into the snow, to the point of it beng hard to breathe. It had always been like this, at least for the past few months. The fair haired asshole would always wait for Warren before or after school, occasionally taking his anger out on him in the halls in between classes. What was his issue?

Does Warren ever fight back? Of course. The neo-nazi is always the one to start all their discourse, so the NAP gives him every right to fight back in any way he deems necessary. But that only makes it more entertaining for Miller, and by the bully having at least two of his friends following his every footstep, it’s kind of hard to do so.

And it only gets worse the next time. 

So there he is, and the only person he knows could at least make him less of an easy target is probably skipping school anyway, chilling at home with a hangover or something.

When they finally let him go, freezing and drenched from the snow, it’s already too late for him to change into his PE kit, so he just gives up, deciding that a cold (from spending the entire first period in freezing wet clothes) is still better than being late. He tries to ignore the occasional shivers he gets from his knees and arms being soaked, and rushes to the classroom.

His best friend is already sitting in his desk, legs on the table, earbuds in, half asleep, but otherwise clearly not hungover. The guy must be pretty used to all kinds of intoxication by now, Warren realizes.

He crawls behind him, taking advantage of his friend being completely zoned out, carefully pulls out one of his earbuds and whispers: „One solution: Revolution…“ in his best ASMR YouTuber impression.

Bernard (that’s the sleeping dude’s birthname, although Warren prefers to call him Bernie, for his friend’s odd pseudo-crush on Bernie Sanders) is apparently not asleep as Warren originally thought. Instead, he decides to play along, drawing out a long, fake moan.

That gets them a weird stare from the girls sitting behind them, but neither of the boys could care less.

Bernie is probably the only good thing about this school (besides from the economy classes and having Ben Shapiro visit them that one time). 

They were friends pretty much from the moment they met, their shared hate for authority being what gave them both detention on the second day of school. It’s kind of a funny story, actually.

Before finally deciding to get rid of this stupid rule, the school had mandatory school uniforms. It was your typical shirt-and-tie bland outfit, except Warren had no previous idea of that being the case. So he came to school dressed fairly accurately, just because that was how he dressed most of the time, but still missing the point by not wearing a tie and some other stupid bullshit. Then, there was another boy who came in dressed normály, in a hoodie and jeans. The school forgave them this time, saying it was their first day at a new school and they should „learn to respect authority“.

Warren was pretty sure it was the last sentence that did it for Bernie, as on their walk from the principal’s office, he seemed really mad. Warren honestly felt the same, so he decided to show that the rule was, indeed, ridiculous, by showing upt he next day in the most prestige suit he could find.

He got a few funny looks, but the teachers probably didn’t care that much.

That wasn’t the case with Bernie, as the southern prestigious high school was probably not used to one of their male students showing up in a girls‘ uniform.

To be fair, the anarchist rocked the pleated skirt and stockings just as well as most of the girls, if not better. And honestly, with his small frame and high-pitched voice, he could fit in pretty well.

At the end of the day, they both had to stay after class, but neither of them cared. They were friends form that point on.

Then, the school lifted the ban on casual clothes and since then Bernie hid in an oversized green hoodie and baggy jeans. He also had dark curly hair, usually hidden under the hood of his sweatshirt, and really dark brown eyes. He furrowed his brows when he noticed Warren’s state.

„You’re so wet, what happened?“

„I met your mom on my way here. God, she’s so HOT!“

„No but really, are you ok, Annie?“

Warren grinned a little, sitting down quickly when the teacher came in. „Yeah, just had a moist encounter on my way here.“

He himself had no clue why was he so hesitant to tell Bernie about Miller.

As soon as the bell rang, Bernie was shoving him out of his seat into the halls.

„You’re getting changed right now, before you get all cold and smelly.“ he insisted. „Do you have any spare clothes?“

His PE kit! It was… one of the many things he left home. Shit.

„Um, no.“

„I could lend you some, I guess. I have mine in the locker room, if you want.“

Warren bit his lip. He really didn’t like owning people stuff, but especially with someone like Bernie, who just… insisted that no, Warren really didn’t have to pay him back. He could never understand that mentality.

„Um, nah, thanks.“

Then he shivered so hard his teeth chattered.

Bernie only smiled, unlocking his locker, reaching for a bundle of clothes.

„You should wear black more often, it suits you.“ the dark-haired boy remarked, looking at his friend.

Warren looked at himself in the mirror. Bernie’s spare clothes consisted of some black sweatpants and a hoodie with an angry cat on the back.

„Nah, I look too emo. Is that from some cartoon?“ he asked, pointing to the drawing. He noticed it was handmade, probably one of Bernie’s many artist friends made it. It was really cool – a combination of embroidery and paint, depicting a black cat with its hair standing up, hissing at the viewer.

Bernie laughed, standing next to Warren to look at himself in the mirror.

„No, that’s the Anarchist cat.“

Warren nodded, his mind wandering from Bernie’s explanation of the symbol to the figure next to him in the mirror. Why was Bernie never the target of Miller and his friends?

Not that Warren would want him to be, obviously. It’s just that it didn’t make sense – Bernie was suprisingly strong and quick, sure, but he was all the things Miller hated. A bit of a junkie, not conforming to gender stereotypes, bilinugal, very left-leaning, resentful towards tradition and very interested in identity politics.

Maybe if Warren could just stick to him more, he would also be safe. 

He smiled a little. Walking with Bernie to and from school, spending more time together… That would be nice. He would even go to Pride with him, for God’s sake.

It was all just for practical purposes, obviously. And before you ask – no, he didn’t have a crush on Bernie. He thought about it a few times, but he came to the conclusion that it was just casual admiration, nothing romantic.

Because you see, Bernie was actually pretty cool. He could always stick up for himself, despite the odds usually being all stacked against him („That’s the tough life of Anarcho-Communists, baby“). He didn’t have rich parents like Warren or a ton of bodyguard friends like Konrad. Yet, he just knew what to do, how to get through a bad day. Bernie knew a ton of cool people, too. Mainly artists, activists and drag queens, who called him „sweetie“ and did his nails sometimes.

And even if Warren didn’t always agree with his friend’s beliefs, he could only admire his persistence and drive for what he believed to be a good cause. Like when he came from a protest with a black eye and a broken hand („You should have seen the other guy“, he grinned), or when he almost got in trouble for some… uh, hacktivist causes (let’s just say that some of the conservative teachers didn’t appreciate having all their PowerPoints about photosynthesis switched to police brutality recordings during the Black History Month).

As mentioned before – strictly platonic.

„So… You wanna tell me what happened?“ Bernie asked, turning to Warren to poke his cheekbone. „You have a light bruise in here.“

„Well…“

Just tell him. He could help you, you know? Konrad’s scared of this kid, for some reason. 

But a real man should be able to solve his problems by himself, he could almost hear his dad saying, as he pushed open the door.

„I slipped on ice on my way here and fell on my face.“

Lying wasn’t a violation of the NAP, right?

Bernie didn’t seem all that convinced, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a familiar voice coming fom behind him.

„Oh look who’s here, wearing his boyfriend‘ clothes!“

Sighing, he stopped.

One of the three boys shouted:

„What even were you two doing in there? No wait, I don’t wanna know!“

All three of them laughed hysterically. („That wasn’t even funny though.“ Bernie whispered.)

Alright, Warren has had just about enough.

He turned to tell Miller something really spicy and very NAP-violating-worthy, but he was cut short by Bernie intertwining their fingers in the most dramatic way possible and pulling him closer, smiling at Miller innocently.

„I know, right? But why are you so salty? Are you jealous?“ he asked, now practically waving their conjoined hands at him. (Warren didn’t mind. Seeing Konrad lose his cool was worth it, at least this one time – mainly because even the blond knew that Bernie wouldn’t be an easy target).

Konrad’s annoying smirk faded.

„Not sure which one of us you are jealous of, but in case you want me, there’s still some space in my polycule, you know…“ he trailed off, showing the blonde neo-nazi his most disgusting wink.

The blond just scoffed, nodding at his „friends“ that they would have more fun next time, without the anarchist there.

„You didn’t answer my question, Konnie!“ Bernie shouted across the hall as they were leaving.

Then, he turned to Warren.

„What did he mean – „Look who’s here“? Does he do this shit often?“ Bernie asked, the stare of his dark eyes hard to handle.

„Um, sometimes.“

„It was him this morning, wasn’t it? I thought so.“

„What?“

„His backpack was also wet from the snow, didn‘t you notice?“

Warren shrugged, looking at the ground, only now noticing Bernie was still holding his hand, as if it was no big deal. 

,But it is a big deal‘, his mind remarked after his stomach did that weird tightening thing.

„Let’s go, we’ll be late for maths.“ Warren said finally, letting go of his friend’s hand.

„No but really, what do you need there? You do know that this will be like… Really bad, if they catch you, right?“

„I thought you hated authorities.“

„Yes, but not enough to get expelled from school because of it. Why do you need to go there anyway?“ Warren asked, looking around to see if anyone was around. But they were alone, the halls around the principal’s office were empty.

„I told you the principal’s on lunch break right now, his office is empty.“

„You didn’t answer my question- Bernie!“

But it was too late, Bernie had alrady slipped into the office. All that was left for Warren to do now was guard the halls, anxiously biting his nails before he told himself to stop.

What could his friend possibly want there? There were more sophisticated ways for someone so tech-savy like Bernie to change their grades, and neither was it in his style to steal things, so what could he possibly want?

About ten minutes later, the door opened carefully and Bernie’s dark mop of hair peeked out.

„All good, thank you.“

„You know what I noticed?“

„Huh?“

Warren pointed into one of the corners of the ceiling.

„There’s cameras in here. We’re fucked.“

Bernie only waved his hand, oddly calm.

„Nah, no one checks them anyway. I would be in way more trouble if they did. Let’s go. Wanna have lunch somewhere?“

„Alright. McDonalds?“ he proposed, slowly calming his nervously beating heart down, deciding to trust Bernie at least this time.

„No big corporations, Warren. Local businesses. Come on, I know a place!“ he grinned excitedly, and shoved Warren a bit to get him to move. For a second, the rich boy expected him to take his hand again, but Bernie did no such thing. 

,Fucking essays‘ Warren thought as he opened his laptop. It was around 8 pm. Right after the lunch with Bernie, he went straight home to binge watch The Money Masters. But then he fell asleep and when he woke up, he still had to make a few finishing touches on his project about Hamlet. But first, he obvioulsy opened Twitter and scrolled a bit. A few new tweets from Elon Musk (Warren found himself staring at the screen lovingly before moving on) and some drama, as always, and he was planning on closing it, before one thread caught his eye.

Ilya Khrushchev, 18:13 : Why am I not suprised the Julius Evola High is like that???

Guy Joe (replying to IlyaKhrsuchev), 19:16 : Yeah, bullying exists everywhere, it kinda sucks

His school’s name caught Warren’s attention. But there was no context, so he had to look further. Fuck Hamlet anyway, this was more interesting.

It all lead to him pulling up the official Julius Evola High School website. 

He almost had a heart attack.

Instead of the usual blue-and-white, organized design, there was simply a black screen, the school’s name and a video, waiting to be played.

He reluctantly clicked on it.

He recongized the poor quality and resolution of security cameras. He recognised the bland, ugly hallways of his school. He recognized that row of lockers, the one on the right being his own.

He also recognized himself, trying to quickly stuff his books into his backpack, frantically looking around. He recognized the figure behind him – the boy’s light blond hair and precisely ironed uniform.

And even if he didn’t catch his face, he recognized the familiar pushes and kicks, accompanied by laughter and attempts to shove him into his own locker.

These were the first few seconds, and the video was almost ten minutes long.

It wasn’t all just him, there were also other kids. Two guys he knew were dating, from a year below him. While one of them was quick to respond to what Warren could only assume was Konrad’s comment, the other one just kind of hid behind his boyfriend, trying to dissolve the situation. But it was pointless, and then they both ended up on the ground, Konrad’s friends just laughing, kicking them a few times and then leaving.

And much, much more. It made him sick, honestly.

But most importantly, he now knew why Bernie needed to go to the principal’s office –the place where all of the old recordings were hidden - so badly.

The next day was, to say the least… exhausting.

First of all, he had to show his dad the video before the school could call him. What he didn’t expect was his dad looking shocked, then putting his face in his hands and simply asking him:

„Why didn’t you tell me?“

As if he weren’t the one who told Warren to „solve his problems on his own, like a real man“ in the first place.

Then, there was a ton of awkward dialogues at school, with the principal, as well as Konrad Miller’s parents.

He wanted to just forget all of it. Just leave, go home and sleep till everyone forgets it happened.

But first, he needed to see Bernie.

His friend had not come to school that day, nor has he even read Warren’s messages.

He looked around, trying to find the house number 1312. It was an old, small house in a neighbourhood his parents always told him to avoid. When he knocked on the door, no one answered, but he remembered the Chomskys kept a spare key in an old pot inhabited by at least dozen spiders („To keep thethieves away“, Bernie’s mom smiled once when telling Warren that he is always welcome here). Disgusted, he pulled it out and unlockedd the door.

„Hello?“

He noticed a pair of red slippers with an Embroidered „A.C.“ on them, so he assumed Bernie’s mom was at work.

„Um, Bernie?“

„What.“ came a lazy, half-asleep response from one of the rooms on his left (not that there were many rooms in this small apartement).

He cautiously knocked on the door before slowly opening it.

Damn, half-asleep Bernie was a sight to see.

An old, washed-out Michael Jackson t-shirt, some shorts and a very messy nest of dark hair. The blanket pushed to one side, half hanging off the bed. Arms wrapped around a pillow, mouth slightly open.

„Senator Sanders.“ Warren whispered, sitting down on the bed, gently shaking his friend awake.

„What.“ Bernie slowly opened his eyes, startling a little when he saw Warren there, quickly covering himself with the blanket. „What are you doing here?“

„Did you do it?“

„What?“ Bernie sat up, rubbing his eyes. „Look, Elon, I just woke up and the first thing I see is you in my bed. Give me a moment.“

Warren felt the blood rushing to his face and quickly retracted his hand from his friend’s shoulders.

„The video. At the school’s website.“

„Oh. That thing.“ then he turned to Warren. „I just… I saw the security cameras and wanted to check if they… if you were okay. And then I found out about the rest of the kids and just had to put it out there. Are you mad at me?“

Warren wanted to say he was doing just fine, that he didn’t need Bernie to defend him like that, but then he noticed his friend’s puppy eyes. How could anyone be mad at this kid?

„No, why would I be? I mean, Miller’s in some serious trouble right now, that’s all I ever wanted.“ he grinned a little. „But why though?“

„What do you mean, „why“? It was the right thing to do.“

„I already owe you so much.“

„What?“ Bernie sounded confused, but fully awake now.

„I mean, you do stuff for me all the time. Let me borrow your clothes, defend me rom Miller – not that I couldn’t do it myself – then this… Why? You don’t get anything from it.“

Bernie chuckled.

„You think I only do stuff to gain something?“

„Why else yould you? It’s human nature.“

„It’s human nature to help your friends.“

„But what you are doing is beyond help! I’m grateful, really, but why?“ Warren smiled, raising his eyebrows.

Bernie looked away for a bit, staring at the ground, fidgeting with the hem of his blanket. It was unusual to see him like this, all nervous.

„Plus it is really dangerous, if they find-“

„You wanna know why I did it?“ Bernie suddenly truned to look at him, now sitting pretty close to him.

Warren swallowed, noticing every feature of his friend’s face. His freckles. Slight dark circles under his eyes. The way his hair curled naturally, framing his face.

The dark haired boy leaned a bit forward.

Since when do guys have such long eyelashes? 

When he felt Bernie’s warm breath on his face, he quickly allowed himself one last glance at the boy’s dark brown eyes. They were now partially covered by his eyelids, focused on Warren’s lips before they closed completely.

When Warren thought what it would be like to kiss his best friend, he always assumed it would be weird. Not necessarily terrible, not great either. Just strange. And yes, he had thought about it, usually late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Just a few times.

Now, he couldn’t think. All of his usual thoughts, worries about his bullies, homework, the state of economy, were replaced just by the tiniest sensations, that were somehow important enough to fill up his entire mind. Like Bernie’s hand lightly placed on his arm. Or how warm his lips were, probably due to him being asleep only minutes ago. 

The kiss lasted only few seconds, and when Bernie pulled away, Warren wished he didn’t.

„Um…“ he started, only to realize there was no need for talking.

Bernie was looking at him sheepishly, cheeks red, a few strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked really cute, smiling a bit before looking down at his own hands.

Maybe it wasn’t just platonic admiration.

Warren felt as if some huge weight has been lifted off of him. He reached out to hold Bernie’s hand, relishing in the warmth it held. He was abou to shuffle even closer to the other boy, when they heard the door unlocking.

„Bernie, sweetie, hi!“ a woman’s voice with a slight accent shouted from behind the door. „I’m home!“

Warren instinctively scooted back, letting his hand fall by his side, trying to comb his hair and get rid of his blush. But when he saw Bernie’s mom’s wide smile after her son told her to come in, he knew she knew.

„Good afternoon, mrs Chomsky.“

Bernie’s mom looked almost identical to Bernie, only her hair was straight and her skin tone was a bit darker. They both shared the dark clolour of their irises and hair, the shape of their noses and eyebrows being also very similar. She was wearing a suit along with a red lipstick and looked really good for her age.

„Oh, hi, you must be Warren!“ she greeted him, walking into the room to shake his hand. „Bernie has told me about you, he said-“

That’s when Bernie stood up, taking her hand and almost dragging her into the kitchen. 

„Come on, let’s unpack the groceries first, or else they’ll get warm.“

He shot Warren an apologetic look before closing the door, making him smile even more.

After being left alone in the bedroom, Warren decided to take a better look at the posters on the wall. There were a lot of them, mostly hand-drawn (wait, could it have been Bernie who drew the cat on the hoodie?). There was the Anarchist black cat, a Bernie 2020 poster and the Anarcho-communist flag, as well as a few photos. Warren walked to the door, to look at them more closely, when he heard Bernie’s mom ask her son:

„So that’s the guy you were always talking about? He seems nice.“

„Mom…“

„Don’t give me that look, you went on and on about him everytime you came home from school.“

Warren felt his heart leap, all attempts not to blush like an idiot were lost now.

Suddenly, the door opened and Bernie looked at him, grinning.

„Hey, my mom’s making arroz con gandules, she’s asking if you maybe wanted to stay for dinner?“

„You wouldn’t mind?“

„I’d love it. We can watch a movie in the meantime or something…“

„Okay, I’ll just call my dad and ask him if I can stay.“

Later that day they were already stuffed with arroz con gandules, laying on Bernie’s bed watching The Internet’s Own Boy.

When Warren looked to the side, he could see his best friend focusing on the documentary, one hand gripping the edge of the pillow. Trying to ease Bernie’s tension, he reached out to place his hand on top of the anarchist’s.

Warren couldn’t remember a time he was happier.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all appreciate me using Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez as AnCom's mom :)


End file.
